The lion thrashed and hissed in her restraints, but the iron chains would not budge even as her fur chafed and rubbed raw against their cold, hard surface. She yearned to roar, but the sound died on the roof of her mouth, captured by the muzzle holding her jaws tightly closed. All she could muster was a chuff, deep in her throat, which echoed plaintively through the darkness of the tower.

She was a creature of the desert, the youngest of five sisters who together defended their cubs and their male. They were not all sisters by blood, but by shared pain and joy. They came from a rocky pool in a field of stones where no rain fell, where the best prey to be found were slim gazelles that could spring away as easily as a mirage. The small pride of lions had starved together during the dry season, and yet they still came together in the worst of times to lick the dust off each others' backs so they stayed golden.

Where now were her sisters? The cruel humans had stolen her from them, binding her in metal and dragging her across the desert to this desolate stone place. She knew they would survive without her aid; they were tough and fierce with love. She knew, also, that she would never see them again. She would die here, and they would move on, raising a new generation of female cubs into huntresses and warriors. Her one regret, if it could be called that in a lion's mind, was that she had never borne cubs of her own.

So she growled until her throat was dry, and strained until her fur was patched off, and swore to die fighting. Then she collapsed on the stone floor, a heap of golden-tan fur lying motionless like a discarded coat. A single slot in the ceiling cast moonlight over her face, granting some measure of peace.

Through her addled mind, she saw a human enter the chamber for the first time in three days and nights. She heard his footsteps first, then smelled the out-of-place scent of bird. He carried a cage, holding an eagle from the high mountains who squawked with defiance.

The lion wondered what this new pain might be. The human set the eagle down before her face, and it looked down at her, and she looked back at it without moving her head. Then the human's hands waved in the air and began to glow, and the lion felt as if her skin were expanding and peeling off. She tried to roar, but it was too late. The muscles in her head no longer moved. In fact, her head was unraveling, turning to strips of flesh and light and vaporizing in the chill air. Her vision clouded over as her eyes turned to smoke.

"I call you to life," he chanted, pulling light from the moon and weaving it between his hands. "I call two noble animals to be as one, beneath the all-seeing eyes of the sun, moon and stars."

A cold fire consumed the lion, burning her in the worst agony she had ever felt in her life. No snake bite or fever compared to this delirious pain.

"The heart of the lion, king of beasts, with strong paws and claws for leaping and hunting. The greatest of four-foots, I bind you."

The pain vanished. The lion felt nothing at all, an impossible sensation, but her mind remained intact through sheer force of will. The eagle screamed, a raw and tortured sound from a ragged voice that pierced the air like a fang. Still the human's chanting continued.

"The wings of the eagle, king of birds, whose eyes see clear and sharp. The master of the air, I bind you."

Suddenly the lion drew breath. Her vision returned, different than before, and she looked around the room to see the texture of each individual stone in the walls. Her front paws felt different, longer and more dexterous. She clambered to her feet, feeling her strength return. Something felt strange against her shoulders, as if there were branches and pelts draped over her back. And yet these were not leaves or fur she felt, but feathers branching out from her head and hackles.

"I bind you. I combine you. I create you. I name you: Griffin."

The lion was not herself anymore. She was not even a lion anymore. She opened her mouth wide and roared, and the eagle's scream came out of her throat, defiant and pained.